


Between Two Lungs

by khutulan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Non-Massacre AU, Romance, Teen Romance, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-18 02:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khutulan/pseuds/khutulan
Summary: Sasuke is summoned home to find his world has been up-ended.





	1. The Summons

**Author's Note:**

> Non-massacre AU. At the beginning of this story, Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are all sixteen.

The summons arrived on a crisp October morning.

Kakashi stooped, resting his elbows on his knees, to be eye-level with the slug’s place on a boulder. “Katsuya,” he said, “What a surprise to see you all the way out here.”

The slug, about three inches tall, bowed her head in return. “Greetings, Kakashi-san,” she turned slightly and bowed again, “Sasuke-san. Yes, it’s been quite a trip! You know, I’ve never been to Earth Country before, but I see now that it has been very aptly named. It’s all boulders as far as the eye can see!”

Sasuke, leaning against another large boulder, rolled his eyes and wished the summons would get on with its job, whatever it was. Clearly it wasn’t here for a vacation. They’d barely started training this morning when the slug had appeared with a small poof, and he was itching to resume.

Kakashi’s visible eye crinkled in amusement as he replied, “Yes, not very imaginative—like most of the naming in the five nations. By any chance, Katsuya, do you have message for us?”

“Yes, I have a message from Tsunade-sama for you both. Sasuke-san,” the slug swiveled back in the boy’s direction, “You have been summoned back to the village. Two ninja are on their way now to relieve you and one other member of your team. By my estimations, they are still a couple days away. Kakashi-san, as leader of this mission, you may choose which other team member will return to the village, or you may return yourself and select a new captain in your place.”

Sasuke pushed away from the boulder and walked closer, crossing his arms. “Why am I being summoned home now?”

“Ah, well, this was not part of the message, but I am sure this will be revealed upon your return!”

A sense of foreboding crept down Sasuke’s spine, one that he tried to shake off. Four team members had been on this mission going on two and half years now, but he specifically had been summoned home with no information as to why. Sasuke’s mind flashed through a number of possibilities, all bad. Had something bad already happened? It was sensitive enough that the Godaime wanted to tell him in person or couldn’t relay the message through a summons.

Kakashi watched his students face twist into a frown with the slug’s reply. He could imagine the scenarios running through Sasuke’s mind, and the truth of the matter would only be revealed once he was home, which could be a week away. Kakashi scratched the back of his head in thought before turning back to the small slug. “You know, I _would_ like to return to the village as well. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen home. I will name Hidehiko as captain in my place. I was thinking about recommending him anyway for a field promotion to jounin, and I predict he will do well.”

Katsuya nodded in satisfaction and chirped, “Very well! I will relay this back to Tsunade-sama! She will expect the two of you to begin your journey home as soon as your relief arrives and to travel as quickly as is practical. Please send a summons of your own if any of these plans change.”

Kakashi, slowly standing up to his full height, eyed his student again, who was staring through the slug now and made no outward move to show he was listening anymore. “I understand. Thank you, Katsuya.”

“You’re welcome! Farewell, Kakashi-san and Sasuke-san. Have a safe journey back!” Another small poof signaled the slug’s exit.

A beat passed before Sasuke finally spoke again, “It’s something bad, right?”

“We don’t know that. The Hokage could be withholding information for a number of reasons, many of which are primarily concerned with handling classified information in the field.”

Kakashi received only a scowl in reply. He sighed, “But yes, it could be bad news.”

“It’s not about Sakura or Naruto, or you would have been summoned, too.”

“…Yes.” Kakashi had thought of that as well. 

“Which leaves my family.” Sasuke did not have an extensive list of people he gave a shit about. And there were a number of Uchiha who, if they suffered a critical injury or died…well, that information could prove useful to a long list of Konoha’s enemies.

“Look, Sasuke, you’ll find out when you find out. It doesn't help anyone to stress about the unknown. It’ll just make things harder on you. In the meantime, I suggest you find a way to distract your mind.”

The boy scoffed at his long-time teacher.

“Well, we came out here to train, right? Let’s train.”

Fine, he nodded. Sasuke could at least see the logic in that. He and Kakashi dropped into mirroring fighting stances at the same time, Sasuke’s fingers hovering inches from his sword.

“Begin.”

 

* * *

 

(ONE WEEK LATER)

 

To say it had been a difficult week would be putting it mildly.

The relief team had taken three more days to arrive in Earth Country, which meant three more days of guarding their client, one of the Fire Daimyo’s ambassadors. The man had been upset to learn he would be losing his two most illustrious guards, Kakashi, the well renowned Copy-Nin and Sasuke, a rising star of the Uchiha. Not to mention the reaction of the ambassador’s daughter, a young girl of twelve, who’d been heartbroken upon hearing her dear _Sasuke-kun_ would be leaving.

And of course, those three days had been perfectly serene. In the past couple of years, their team had encountered plenty of attempts to capture or kill the ambassador and his family, some of them even challenging for the young Uchiha. But those plots were mostly carried out when the ambassador was on the road. When the ambassador was ensconced in one fortress or another, as he was now, the mission tended to become monotonous.

Of course, that had been part of the appeal when Sasuke agreed to this mission long ago. Assigning shifts between teammates meant he’d have lots of one-on-one training with Kakashi for each stopover in the ambassador’s journey. Well that, and the pay was good. And Sasuke _had_ liked the appeal of traveling all over the Great Nations.

But now, any time he wasn’t actively training, his mind returned to the question of what could possibly warrant his immediate return home but no information as to why. Kakashi’s advice to distract himself was probably hardest to implement during guard duty. There were only so many times Sasuke could recheck the perimeter and recheck the traps before he had to just stay put and wait. In those moments he could start to feel his thoughts begin to spiral, and his mind would play a never-ending rotation of which Uchiha was dead or dying. Eventually Sasuke had begun inwardly reciting the Shinobi Handbook from memory as a last-ditch effort to keep his focus on literally anything else during guard duty. The practice worked well enough, so soon he found himself reciting the handbook during any downtime where his mind began to wander down that dark path, like when he first woke up in the morning, when he was trying to fall asleep, when he was taking a shower or brushing his teeth, when he was sitting down for a meal, when he was waiting for the water to boil for tea…

Finally, _finally_ , the relief team arrived.

He and Kakashi set off for Konoha almost immediately, with only the barest of farewells for the ambassador and the other nin. They set a grueling pace with an unspoken agreement to keep breaks to a minimum.

Sasuke was well aware that he could be rushing towards bad news, but at least he wasn’t still waiting in Earth Country, treading water. He almost felt a wave of relief when he saw the tree line of the forest in the distance, because at least it was progress.

He found himself again reciting the Shinobi Handbook as their trek home remained uneventful. A part of him wished that running through treetops took a little more of his concentration, as it had when he was younger. Now it was a task as effortless as reading or writing. He figured he’d must have recited the handbook hundreds of times by now, but any time he paused for too long the parade of dead Uchihas would return to the forefront of his mind.

Sometimes, he found himself wishing his genin teammates were on this journey, too. He could always trust Naruto and Sakura to fill a silence like this with chatter. They’d done it constantly as genin, at least, even if Sasuke himself had barely answered. Naruto would have found something he just had to talk about right then even if the mission called for stealth, too.

With just the two of them, though, Sasuke and Kakashi traveled in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke could see the older nin running through the treetops beside him. Even his footfalls didn’t make a sound. Sasuke rolled his eyes and decided he might as well start the handbook from the beginning, _again._

Just as the sun was setting on the seventh day since receiving the summons, Konoha’s large gates came into view. Neither slowed as they ran through the gates and over the rooftops to the Hokage tower, but as they entered the tower Kakashi tugged on Sasuke’s sleeve, “Running up to the office might make the ANBU guards… a little antsy. Best not to run if it’s not an emergency.”

The boy huffed but slowed to a walk as well. If Sasuke remembered correctly, this late in the day their _esteemed Hokage_ was likely to have already started into her nightly sake bottle(s). Hopefully she wasn’t too far in…

As they rounded a corner, Sasuke was surprised to see Sakura there, too. She was facing away from them, talking with a dark-haired woman; and, well, it had been over two years since he’d last seen her, but honestly who else had that vivid pink hair? It was like a goddamn beacon on missions. And she looked unharmed—but he’d already ruled out that something had happened to her or Naruto…but why was she here? Oh, right—she was the Hokage’s apprentice now. If anything, she would be surprised to see him here.

The dark-haired woman—he remembered now vaguely that she was Tsunade’s assistant—spotted the new arrivals and greeted them, “Kakashi-san, Sasuke-san, glad to see you both home safe!” 

Sakura turned then, eyes searching, and smiled when she saw them. “Sasuke-kun, Kakashi-sensei, hello! It’s been so long!”

“Hello, Sakura,” Kakashi paused to ruffle her hair affectionately, “I’m glad to be home, and to see you looking so well.” 

“Sakura,” the boy nodded his head in reply. He eyed the girl’s armful of scrolls—probably the only thing keeping her from enveloping them both in a bone-cracking hug.

The dark-haired woman quickly excused herself to tell the Godaime that the two had arrived.

“A little bit of light reading, Sakura?” Kakashi’s visible eye crinkled as he gestured to the bundle of scrolls.

“Oh, you know, homework!” Sakura replied as she shifted the bundle more to one side, “Tsunade-shishou believes it is not enough to learn the jutsu, but also the theory behind it. I’m…um…” she paused, eyes shifting between them. She was still smiling, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The doors beside them opened, and the dark-haired assistant leaned out, “Tsunade-sama is ready to see you now.”

Sakura almost seemed thankful for the interruption, “Alright, well, I hope we can catch up another time. Naruto is in town, too, I think!”

Kakashi promised a visit before they were both ushered into the Hokage’s office, and the doors closed behind them. The Godaime sat behind a large desk, mountains of paperwork on either side. Sasuke noted it was as if time hadn’t passed since he’d last been in this office. His keen nose even picked up the familiar scent of her preferred sake, though at least she appeared to be drinking it out of a coffee mug this time—it suggested she at least knew drinking during work was _frowned upon_.

“Well, Kakashi, Sasuke, made it back in one piece? That pompous fart has already sent me a letter, crying about how I took his Sharingan users from him,” the Hokage leaned back in her chair and took a long drink from her mug. From this angle Sasuke could read an inscription on the mug: “I would like to be a nice person but everyone else is just so fucking stupid.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” replied Kakashi, “Everything—“

“Why was I summoned back?” the boy interrupted, his voice louder than he’d meant.

The Godaime frowned and set her mug back down on the desk. For a moment, she seemed to study the boy thoughtfully, before she said, “No one is dead.”

Sasuke could feel the tension in his chest unclench a little with that information, and she continued, “Your return was requested by your family. That’s all the specifics I will give, the rest I expect your family members to fill in for you…in fact, I don’t need you for this debriefing. You’re dismissed.”

Sasuke managed a stiff bow and a “Yes, Hokage-sama” before rushing out of the room. He remembered to walk—not run—in front of the ANBU. Sakura had already disappeared. By the time he left the tower, dusk had fallen; and he ran across rooftops in a familiar path towards the lights of the Uchiha district.

 

* * *

 

Sliding open the door to his family home, Sasuke was greeted by the smell of food cooking. That was a good sign. His family always ate dinner at about this time of day, like clockwork. As he slipped off his sandals in the entryway, he heard his mother’s voice, “Sasuke-kun, is that you?”

He turned around in time to catch his mother’s smiling face before she stepped closer to embrace him. He could smell the mint and sage shampoo she used, a powerfully familiar scent in his memories of home. “Aa, kaa-san. I’ve just returned.”

“Well, welcome home! Oh, we’ve missed you so much! And look how much you’ve grown. You’ve gotten taller than me already! And still with that unruly hair, I see!” His mother laughed as she jokingly patted down his hair in the back. If it were anyone else, he’d manage more than an annoyed grunt in return. His mother was a surprisingly affectionate person in a clan otherwise full of people who prioritized personal space; it was part of her nature. But Sasuke _was_ tired of all the jokes about his hair.

“Kaa-san,” he began slowly, “The Hokage said I was called back for a family matter?”

His mother, leading him by the arm down the hall, finally let her smile falter. “Yes, we’ve been expecting you any day now. I don’t mean to prolong the mystery further; but, well, I believe Itachi would prefer to speak with you on his own.”

Once they were in front of Itachi’s room, she paused and knocked on the door, “Sasuke-kun is home!”

He heard shuffling from inside the room before the door opened. Itachi’s face appeared pale and drawn and _tired_. Sasuke felt a pulse of fear before Itachi smiled and greeted him, “Welcome home, Sasuke.” He held open the door in invitation to enter, and Sasuke stepped inside without a word.

“Alright,” his mother called through the doorway, “Dinner is about halfway done, maybe thirty more minutes. I’ll come fetch you two when it’s time.”

Itachi quietly shut the door and gestured for Sasuke to sit down on the tatami mats. Itachi sat as well, on the edge of his futon. “Well, Sasuke, I’m sure you’re wondering why you were called home from your mission.”

He wasn’t, at least, not anymore. A quick sweep around the room provided almost all the clues he needed: an array of pill bottles, inhalers, a hot water bottle, a tray of uneaten daifuku. There were books, empty cups, and scrolls scattered around the futon, blankets in disarray, as if someone had been spending his days in bed, with everything he needed within reach. And there was his brother, paler and thinner than Sasuke remembered him, sitting among the mess.

At Sasuke’s silence, his brother began again, “Or maybe you’ve already figured it out?”

“Nii-san…how sick are you?”

Itachi sighed, “I’m quite ill, otouto…I’m afraid I’ve been ill for some time now, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

As Sasuke opened his mouth to speak, his brother held up a hand to stop him. He cleared his throat, continuing, “Please, let me explain. It began, I think, as a cough a few years ago. I was able to manage it with some over-the-counter treatments, like those throat lozenges, but the cough persisted. The medics ran some basic tests, but I was otherwise healthy, at least for awhile.

Later my symptoms…worsened. Tsunade-sama diagnosed me with a very rare type of autoimmune disease. To put it simply… my immune system is attacking my lungs.”

At his pause, Sasuke found he could no longer focus on his brother’s face and shifted his gaze to the floor, “…your lungs?”

“Yes…and for a while, we were able to treat the disease’s symptoms and, we believe, slow the disease’s progression. Tsunade-sama warned me that this might be the case—that the treatments might not be enough to cure it—but… I elected to stay on active duty and to withhold my diagnosis from our family. I had hoped, if the medicine had kept working, to never tell any of you.”

“But the medicine…stopped working?”

Itachi shook his head, “It wasn’t enough. It has probably slowed the damage to my lungs, and I’ll continue to take the treatments in hopes that it will continue to buy us more time. But my best chance now, according to Tsunade-sama, would be a lung transplant, provided a pair becomes available.”

The two brothers sat in silence, Sasuke’s gaze shifting again around the room. At last he spoke, “How long can you wait?”

“Otouto, I’m not going to die next week. Or even next month, probably. All I can say is that since the disease itself is rare, the medics are hedging their bets on a time course. And, I do believe the medicine is still helping to slow it down.”

“…I wish you had told me sooner.”

“…I wish I had, too. I am deeply sorry, Sasuke. Even six months ago, I—well, I never would have guessed this is the shape I’d be in.”

“And our parents?”

“They’ve only known for a couple of weeks now. I hid it from them as well, as long as I could. Kaa-san noticed something, of course, but she thought it was just a passing infection.”

Itachi paused then to cough into his hand, his body shaking with the exertion. Sasuke started to stand, not sure what he was attempting to do, but Itachi waved at him to sit back down.

His brother grabbed a nearby cup and took a drink before continuing, “I know, otouto, that this is a lot of information to absorb. We can talk about this however much you like; I’ll answer all the questions for which I know the answers. But there is something else I wanted to warn you about before we leave this room: Our father wants you to begin learning about the clan heir duties.”

“But,” Sasuke felt like he was swallowing a ball of rage as he tried to answer, “But you’re still…”

“Our father has always been one to prepare for adverse outcomes. But my medical team is optimistic of my chances, as am I.”

“…Did tou-san call me back for this?”

“No, I asked to call you back because I wanted you here. And I know kaa-san wanted you to come home as well, and tou-san, too, probably—though I don’t think he even stops to consider his own feelings.”

Sasuke found himself running his hands through his hair, trying to slow his thoughts down. He felt like his mind might explode with any new information. He could feel Itachi watching him from across the room, but it was clear his brother was waiting for a sign from him to proceed.

“So,” at last Sasuke found a coherent thought, “A lung transplant?”


	2. Back Home

Waiting for a pair of lungs to become available, as Itachi had put it that first night home, was exactly as morbid as it sounded.

It was, essentially, waiting for someone to die. Someone who died and happened to leave behind a healthy set of lungs—which they were also willing to donate. Someone who died close enough to the Konoha hospital that their organs were still viable to transplant. Someone whose blood type and other blood proteins were a close enough match to Itachi’s that his body didn’t ultimately reject the new lungs.

If Itachi had needed a different organ, one that Sasuke could have managed without like a kidney or part of a liver, he wouldn’t have hesitated to volunteer his own. And he was likely a match, too, since they were brothers. But none of that was an option; Sasuke couldn’t live without his lungs. So, instead, they’d wait for some other unlucky soul to die—and Itachi would live. He would.

After a few days at home, Sasuke had begun to settle into a new routine. He and Itachi often studied together, or they played a few games of shogi, all of which Sasuke lost horrendously. He’d make it out of the house at least once a day to train; and by the time he returned, his cousin Shisui would have already arrived. He and his brother had been best friends for as long as Sasuke could remember; and, as far as Sasuke could tell, Shisui was the only person outside of Itachi’s medical team and immediate family who knew the extent of his illness.

Today, with the weather a little warmer, Sasuke and his brother had elected to sit outside on the porch for breakfast. Or really, for Itachi’s breakfast and Sasuke’s mid-morning tea. Itachi had been sleeping in well past sun-up for the past few days, something Sasuke couldn’t recall ever happening before. Sasuke would’ve liked to sleep in as well—the Hokage had given him some time off—but waking early had been part of his routine for so long that he woke before sunrise even without an alarm.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like he had _nothing_ to do. His father had assigned him reading concerning the long history of the Uchiha clan, with an emphasis on its politics. He had one scroll unfurled before him now, but he found his mind wandering. Neither of the brothers broke the morning’s serene hush.

Just like Itachi had warned, his father had broached the subject of Sasuke taking over clan heir duties the first night of his return. It had been jarring.

Reluctantly, he’d acquiesced, but only after Itachi had assured him that he was not troubled by the decision. It was certainly grim, but Sasuke wondered if this was relatively normal for powerful clans facing the potential loss of their heir. Then again, Itachi wasn’t just clan heir—he was also the prodigal son and one of the most accomplished shinobi of his generation. Sasuke would undoubtedly be found lacking when compared to his brother.

Even more unsettling was his father’s way of talking around Itachi’s illness, never directly mentioning it. Itachi was probably right; their father was incapable of addressing these kinds of feelings. He proceeded in life as if nothing much had changed. He still spent his days consumed by work as Konoha’s Chief of Police as well as the leader of the Uchiha clan. At dinner, where Sasuke remembered him always crowing about Itachi’s proficiencies, he now mostly sat in silence. If he felt fear or sorrow in the wake of Itachi’s diagnosis, he did not confide this in his sons. Their mother, again playing mediator, tried to assure Sasuke that he meant no harm—that his faults stemmed from _clumsiness_ , as she had put it, but not willful intent.

Meanwhile, his mother made no secret that, while the circumstances were _not ideal_ , she was overjoyed to have all of her family under one roof again. Itachi had been frequently called away on missions and other obligations from a young age. Sasuke himself had grown up at a slower pace, to his mother’s delight, but then he’d accepted that _ridiculously long mission_. She’d chosen to fill her time volunteering with the younger Academy students, mulling her empty nest and life’s winding path. When Itachi had first become ill enough to be removed from the active ninja roster, Mikoto enthusiastically accepted the responsibility to care for her oldest son. It was a role she slipped back into like a glove. She made sure he could never want for anything she was capable of providing: hot tea, warm blankets, his favorite home-cooked meals, fresh laundry, new books to read, refills on his prescriptions. She baked enough sweets to feed an entire birthday party of children. It brought her such joy to tuck him into his blankets before bed, smoothing back his hair and whispering goodnight.

Itachi had always loved her, she knew; but it’d been a long, long time since he _needed_ her. And it felt good to feel needed—but that feeling curdled into a mass of guilt and fear whenever she wondered if and when Itachi would be cured. Listening to her son’s coughing fits everyday racked her with worry. The medics were hopeful, yes; but they weren’t gods. Mikoto left offerings and prayers at their shrine daily to cover all their bases.

The brothers’ morning continued without much change, with Sasuke eventually laboring through the rest of his scroll. The chronicles of the Uchiha clan’s investments in land and other equity had managed to be even more tedious than the previous scroll on the Uchiha clan’s pre-Konoha trade relations. Meanwhile, Itachi was engrossed in a paperback novel. It seemed in his newfound leisure time, he’d found an unexpected appreciation for historical fiction.

Around 1 o’clock their mother invited them inside for a lunch of miso soup, rice, vegetables, and grilled trout. Afterwards, as Sasuke was helping his mother to wash and dry the dishes, he heard the front door sliding open and people walking into the entryway.

“Hey, teme!” he heard. _Naruto_.

A moment later Naruto and Shisui entered the kitchen. “Good afternoon,” Shisui called, making a beeline for the tray of sweets on the table, “You’ll never guess who I found wandering around outside.”

“Hi Mikoto-san! Haha yeah, I kinda forgot which house you lived in!” Naruto walked up to Sasuke and clapped him on the back, earning himself a quietly hissed “Usuratonkachi” and a glare.

“Well, you had the right neighborhood,” replied Itachi from his place at the table.

“Hey Ita—whoa, you look awful!”

All of the other Uchiha in the room froze at Naruto’s declaration. Itachi, for his part, answered mildly, without missing a beat, “I’m just a little under the weather, Naruto.”

Still oblivious to the tension in the room, Naruto then loudly sniffed the air and asked, “What’s for lunch, Mikoto-san? Something smells great!”

Sasuke took that as his cue to begin dragging the idiot out of the kitchen and down the hall, where’d he only be able to subject one Uchiha to his unmitigated stupidity. From the hallway he could hear Shisui taunt them, “Awww, Sasuke-chan, do the lovebirds need some privacy?”

After dragging Naruto back to the entryway, Sasuke finally released him and asked, “Alright, Naruto, what do you want?”

“Don’t be such as asshole, Sasuke! Sakura-chan told me you were back in town, not that you would bother. God, why are you such a hermit?”

Feelings the first pangs of guilt, Sasuke relented and sighed, “Hn. I’ve been…busy, since I’ve been home.”

“Whatever! I know you’re actually just avoiding me so I can’t challenge you to a rematch. I have the skills now to make you look like an Academy dropout, believe it!”

“Tch. We both know Jiraiya never bothered to teach you anything besides peeping on women in the bath.”

“Hey!” Naruto yelled, cheeks blushing, “I’ll have you know me and Ero-sannin did lots of stuff besides that! You’re just scared, aren’t you?”

“As if I’d ever be scared of you, usuratonkachi.”

“Fine! Prove it! Let’s go spar right now!”

“Aa. I’ll prove once again that you’re still the dead weight of Team 7.”

“You wish, teme!” Naruto slammed open the door and walked outside to stretch, “Alright, Training Ground Eight is usually open, I think. Last one there has to—“

“Idiot!” Sasuke gestured to his clothes; he was still wearing sweatpants from this morning. “I need to get my gear first.”

“Oh, yeah,” Naruto paused to scratch the back of his head, “Okay, and then we’ll race?”

“Just wait out here,” Sasuke answered and slammed the door in Naruto’s face.

He walked to his room, changing clothes and gathering his weapons quickly. Sasuke hadn’t thought of it before, somehow; but it’d probably do wonders for his current mood to be able to slug Naruto’s stupid face. He sealed his katana in a scroll—that’d make for a fun surprise—and secured his final weapons pouch before leaving his room. As he walked by Itachi’s door, he could hear Shisui’s pealing laughter; and he was thankful for his brother’s best friend, even if it meant enduring Shisui’s seemingly endless ribbing.

Sasuke continued outside, locked the front door, and then he and Naruto took off towards the training grounds.

* * *

 

Sasuke won the spar using an intermediate level genjutsu, catching Naruto off guard and leaving him frozen on the ground for about six minutes. When Sasuke had finally taken pity on him and released the genjutsu, Naruto had awoken to find his rival sitting a few feet away and smirking, “I win again, dobe.”

It seemed Naruto had improved a lot since they’d last fought, particularly in ninjutsu and taijutsu—though Sasuke was, smugly, still faster. And Naruto’s chakra reserves, already massive when they were first genin, may have been the largest Sasuke had ever encountered. But the idiot’s genjutsu abilities left a blaring weakness, one that almost surprised Sasuke when he finally bothered to use the jutsu. He was nearly sorry to win the spar that way, too. Beating the shit out of Naruto had been cathartic, in a way, and he’d been enjoying himself when he’d suddenly won the match in the most anti-climatic way imaginable.

The idiot had blustered about the genjutsu being an unfair move for a few minutes, stupid Sharingan, etcetera, before resolving to pester Jiraiya to teach him how to release a genjutsu like that.

Naruto had also proposed a Team 7 training session and reunion dinner—he knew Sakura would want to come and somehow he was sure he could track down Kakashi, too. They settled on this coming Friday as a tentative date. Jiraiya and Naruto never stayed in Konoha for long periods of time—they never stayed anywhere for long periods of time, in fact—but Naruto knew he’d at least still be here through the weekend, so hopefully Friday would work for everyone else. The dobe also really hoped they would go to Ichiruku’s for ramen. Sasuke had rolled his at this, because how could someone still be so obsessed with one food when they ate it constantly. But _fine_ , ramen was _fine_ and definitely not worth the hassle of an argument about the restaurant.

Sasuke was on his way home then, rounding the corner to his street looking forward to a good shower, when he spotted his second and final genin teammate. He saw her signature cropped pink hair right before she stepped into a house. _His house_ , he looked closer. Guess this was the day for unannounced visits to old teammates.

Reaching his doorway, Sasuke unlocked the door and entered his home, pausing to step out of his sandals. He could hear voices down the hall towards the bedrooms, Sakura’s voice among them. He strode down the hall, stopping in front of Itachi’s open door. His confusion mounted when he saw his old teammate kneeling beside Itachi, who was sitting on his futon.

His brother acknowledged him first, “Good afternoon, Sasuke.” He paused to eye the grass stains on Sasuke’s clothes and the scrapes and bruises on his person, “A good match, I hope?”

From her place on the floor, Sakura had turned around and smiled warmly, “Oh, hey, Sasuke-kun! You must have arrived just after I did!”

“Aa,” Sasuke nodded his head in greeting, “I won the spar.”

Just then his mother and cousin appeared in the doorway behind him. Mikoto was carrying a large basin of water and some towels, Shisui an open bag of shrimp chips. His mother smiled and greeted him as Sasuke moved aside for them to enter the room, and she walked and placed the basin and towels next to Sakura, who quietly thanked her.

“Sakura-san is part of my medical team,” Itachi began, his eyes still settled his brother, “Considering it’s in Konoha’s best interests to keep my condition secret, the Hokage wished to keep my visits to the hospital as few as possible.”

“Yes, I’m here to perform Itachi-san’s weekly check-up and breathing treatments.” Sakura opened her medical bag to retrieve a pen and a small notebook, “If Itachi-san permits it, everyone else is okay to stay and watch.”

Mikoto, gathering some empty cups and plates from Itachi’s bedside, excused herself to start making dinner. She’d watched Sakura, Shizune, and even the Hokage herself complete the breathing treatments before, and the intrigue was largely gone by now. Shisui and Sasuke, both leaning against the wall opposite the futon, elected to stay.

Sakura began by asking Itachi questions about his condition over the past week—his coughing fits, his appetite, how much medication he was using, etc.—and recording his responses in a small notebook.

While she worked, Sasuke thought back to their encounter outside the Hokage’s office. As part of Itachi’s medical team, she must have known about his brother’s condition months before he did. In the Hokage tower, too, she hadn’t really seemed surprised by his appearance, but he recalled now that she had seemed nervous under his gaze. He knew his old teammate well enough to guess that she had probably felt conflicted for keeping Itachi’s illness from him, though nothing had seemed amiss in her most recent letters.

Truthfully, Itachi’s own secrecy was something Sasuke hadn’t quite gotten past yet. He should have been called home months ago. Itachi had been getting sicker and sicker, and he’d been wasting time guarding that pompous ambassador. But, on the other hand, Sasuke was also hyper-aware of the clock’s ticking, and he felt guilty that he was still holding onto his resentment. He didn’t want to spend their time left being angry with his brother; so he resolved to bury the feeling. Sometimes it was difficult, though, when he was reminded how long his brother had kept him in the dark.

Sakura then seemed to reach the end of her list of questions. Setting her notebook to the side, Sakura opened her medical bag and said, “Alright, if you will remove your shirt, I will begin the physical exam.”

As Itachi took off his shirt, Sasuke found himself staring at the skin stretching across his brother’s now prominent ribcage. Itachi had explained that one of the his medications was to prevent nausea and one of his immunosuppressants had the added benefit of increasing appetite, so nowadays Itachi was eating fairly consistent meals. It was obvious by Itachi’s weight loss, however, that this hadn’t always been the case.

Sakura turned around then, as if she had just remembered Sasuke and Shisui were still there, “For this next step, I’m going to use chakra to look at Itachi-san’s lungs, and then we’ll move on to the breathing treatments.” Green chakra began to glow from her hands, and she placed them on Itachi’s chest, moving them across his torso in a methodical manner. When she was finished, she wrote her observations in the notebook and retrieved a small scroll from her medical bag.

“Now,” she unfurled the scroll, revealing large, painted kanji, “I’m going to loosen up any debris that may be blocking his airways and clear out as much as I can.” Sasuke and Shisui watched in silence as she weaved the scroll over and under Itachi’s shoulders and twice more around his ribcage before tearing off the paper’s end and tucking it under one of the loops. “Itachi-san, please let me know if you’re in pain and would like to take a break.”

Itachi nodded in response, and Sakura began. Green healing chakra emanating from her hands, she again moved her hands over Itachi’s torso in a precise, slow manner; and the scroll’s kanji glowed green to mirror her chakra.

Shisui walked closer to the futon, dusting crumbs off on his pants, and kneeled down, asking, “So, does it actually hurt?”

“It’s not actually painful…I would say more uncomfortable than anything,” answered Itachi. “And watch the crumbs.”

“Tch.” Even if it were painful, Sasuke knew his brother would try his hardest to deny it. Sasuke moved to kneel next to his cousin, noting how the green glow cast Itachi’s and Sakura’s faces in an eerie light. From the light sheen of sweat on their faces, he also surmised that this procedure was more involved than it appeared on the surface.

Sakura, if she noticed the other occupants of the room moving closer, had no outward reaction. After a few more minutes in silence, she slowly pulled her hands away from Itachi’s chest, green chakra moving with her. What followed was, to Sasuke’s repulsion, the debris Sakura had spoken about earlier, a fist-sized ball of _something_ encased in chakra that she painstakingly pulled through Itachi’s skin and deposited in the basin of water beside the futon. From the dark, rust-colored swirls appearing in the water now, Sasuke knew at least some of stuff was old blood. Both he and Shisui, who seemed to always have a crack about everything, were mute.

“Okay,” Sakura took a moment to stretch before she spoke, “Hard part’s over. That should ease Itachi’s coughing and breathing difficulties, at least temporarily. To finish, I’ll perform some tissue repair for his lungs.”

As Sakura resumed her work, Sasuke recalled their genin days and the time Sakura had first decided to become a medic nin. From the moment she had voiced her new dream, he’d known her chosen path would suit her well. She’d been the de facto caretaker of Team 7 from its inception, always the one to wash and bandage their wounds, always the one to talk sense into he and Naruto when they pushed themselves too hard and tried to ignore their bodies’ limits.

It was no secret, too, that Sakura was one of the smartest ninja of their generation; she actually _liked_ reading those massive, tedious textbooks from the library, and that would certainly be useful in learning the large quantities of information that medics had to memorize. She also had a natural aptitude for chakra control, something a medic nin would have to become very proficient with in order to channel healing chakra. And obviously, she had excelled—Sasuke doubted the Hokage would risk the health of one of Konoha’s best shinobi with a less-skilled medic.

Sakura then lifted her hands from Itachi’s chest, the green glow dissipating from her palms as well as the kanji on the scroll one final time. The scroll’s ink, which had been coal black at the beginning of the procedure, was now the color of ash. “All done,” she smiled, unwrapping the scroll from around his torso and handing him a towel.

Itachi used the towel to wipe away the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his body before replacing his shirt, and Sakura used the second towel to wipe her own face and arms. “Thank you, Sakura-san, I feel it is already easier to breathe.”

“My pleasure, Itachi-san,” Sakura packed up her medical bag and stood, “Please let us know if you need any refills before next week’s appointment, or if you need Shizune or I to come back sooner. If not, I’ll see you next week!”

Sasuke stood up as well, and he gestured that he’d walk her out. When they were further down the hall, he spoke quietly, “You knew.”

Sakura’s smile faltered. “Ah—yes, I knew… It was hard for me to hide it from you, Sasuke-kun, but I couldn’t have broken patient confidentiality.”

“Hn.”

Already they reached the entryway, and they both came to a stop. Sasuke watched as she held out her arms, her eyes searching his face, before she stepped closer and enveloped him in a hug. Sasuke felt himself tense, felt the warmth of her arms on his shoulders and neck and her body close against his.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. Then she quickly stepped away from him, like she’d stolen the embrace, and shyly retreated towards the door, motioning her goodbye. The entryway was dark, but Sasuke would bet his last paycheck that she was blushing.

“Sakura,” he began, trying to recall what he wanted to say. A beat passed before he could remember. “Naruto wants to train on Friday…All of us. And probably get food after.”

“I’d like that,” she smiled.

“Aa.”

With that, she bid goodbye and opened the door to step out. When the late afternoon sunlight glanced over her face, he could see that, yes, her cheeks almost matched the pink of her hair. And then she closed the door, and it was dark again.

“Huh,” he heard Shisui’s voice from behind him and turned to see his cousin carrying the towels and basin of water, a thoughtful expression on his face. “God, you two are awkward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you were expecting a training scene. I just didn't particularly feel like writing this one, though I may include one in the future. I'm much more interested in writing about interpersonal relationships and interactions. 
> 
> Happy (late) Lunar New Year!
> 
> And all forms of feedback are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've enjoyed the writing I've completed so far, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. I don't imagine this story will go too long, or at least, not according to the outline I've planned out so far. Super new to the whole thing!
> 
> All forms of feedback are appreciated!


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